Praise Be to the Sparing Ones
by ragazzasolitaria
Summary: A girl who's been cursed because of the perversity of her parents. A boy who's been cursed by the gods with unluckiness, having lost everything he's lost dear. An enemy as old as time herself rising from the very depths of hell. A prophecy that needs to be fulfilled, a threat that needs to be repelled. NicoxOC fanfiction, passing just before The Lost Hero.
1. Introduction

_Author's Note: The Introduction is in Nico's POV, while the remaining of the story will be narrated by the OC. Thanks for reading, enjoy!_

**Nico's POV:**

My footsteps echo in the dark alley, my lungs burn in fatigue. I can hear heavy steps hitting the surface my feet have just left and giant claws dismantling the asphalt on the road. I feel that they are close to me. I bend my knees, jump up, and rotate in mid-air. I bring my sword down in between two glowing, red eyes that I come face-to-face with, and the dark shadows around the crimson orbs burst into golden dust and explode, diffusing into the air in specks of light.

Well, it had been closer to me than I had anticipated.

I spot more monsters emerging from the thinning filter of gold, and let out a weary sigh._ Time to rev it up._

As I slowly start to lose altitude from my jump, I concentrate all I have in order to shape the shadows into a portal entrance, and darkness absorbs me from behind. A gust of fierce wind hits me, moves through my hair and makes my aviator jacket flap wildly. I find myself speeding through the unchartered darkness again.

This is my realm, I rule here. I am supposed to feel safe. The shadows give way to me, abide me, respect me -and they ultimately slow my chasers down. Under normal conditions, neither the mutterings of the less accepting things in the dark, or the exhaustion of exerting the will to carry through a shadow travel would have affrighted me.

However, today, I felt chills running up my spine, even though I know the shadows give me a upper hand. _'I've cut through at least ten of them with Stygian Iron already,'_ I run through in my mind, once again, _'but just how many of them are there?'_ With countless unidentified hunters chasing after me, the only option is to run, and it was precisely what I was doing.

They have started following me in the Underworld. I have been getting the feeling that something was not going right in the webs of districts that functioned as a tampon zone between the realm of my father and Tartarus, for quite some time. I had came face-to face with many dangerous creatures that should have been left stranded in the very core of Tartarus roaming around dangerously close to the heart of the Underworld, and suspected that it was a sign of the delicate balance of my father's realm being threatened -a worry that he also shared.

Two days ago, as I toured these _'webs'_ for a clue that might lead me to the source of the problem, was the first time I felt being followed. I'd escaped the Underworld as fast as I could, thinking that these creatures belonged to Tartarus. I had been wrong. They had followed me everywhere -from the shadows to daylight and back into the shadows again. I had hardly got any sleep or eaten anything, and now I was so close to being caught. I thought that these monsters had been long locked up into the sky as a constellation, and would do no harm to men anymore. They were the works of a mastermind like Zeus -no one can accuse him for not being a crafty geezer. With such a master, they could practically wander anywhere they would liked to, and hunt possibly anything that did not have the golden blood of the gods flowing in his veins -even a demigod.

What was worse is that I couldn't manage to get into the Underworld again, which ruined the hopes of seeking my father's assistance. After several failed attempts of trying to get through doors that lead to the Underworld, I'd figure that they was locked for some reason, and feared that something could also be going wrong in my father's frontline.

My mind starts to drift off, now unable to endure the chase. I had almost been exhausted to the point of no return.

I keep rushing through the portal with heady speed, head throbbing with pain. This much demigod stuff was too much even for me. I mumble with slight humor, grinning sourly, 'If those things won't be enough to kill me, than I sure as hell will end up wearing myself to death.'

With this sudden realization, I throw myself out of the portal. Since I hadn't a destination in my mind, timing would not be a problem -the portal would just pitch me off to a location of my luck onto the surface of earth. The darkness dissipates and I emerge from it, my lungs gratefully inhaling the scents of the living world after the air of the dead realm. If I could just give my powers a little rest, then I think I may open a portal again -however, I am already feeling half asleep, and will need weeks of rest to recover myself if I were to survive.

My feet hit the ground, and I urge forward again on a cross street smelling of sea and moss.

I vaguely note that the weather is dark, but dimly-lit street lamps illuminate the streets and the frontages of buildings standing erect the at both side of the road. I pick up my pace and focus every single fiber of my body to hear something that would suggest that my hunters managed out of the portal as well, praying otherwise. Soon, I heard the sound of claws tapping onto the asphalt surface.

A cry of frustration tears itself away from my throat. _'Dannare la mia fortuna!'_ I shout, probably waking people from their sleep. I scramble, vaguely wondering how the Mist will alter the minds of the mortals when they see this party going down before their eyes.

The desolate road slowly blends in to something which seems like a street bazaar -numerous men are installing tables onto the two sides of the road and are placing fruits and cheese and whatnot over the matte blue plastic that they laid bare unto these sleazy counters.

The layout is linear, but the merchants, a handful of early-risen people and the haphazard baskets of fruit laid onto the ground form a kind of labyrinth, making it harder for me to keep running. As if to prove the thought, I crash into a basket full of tomatoes and eye the owner despondently after the red spheres slowly run down the slope and away. Now adding an angry merchant to the people who would want to see me dead, I scoot. The air is crisp and cool, and the grocery that's on display is sprinkled with morning dew. It's probably just minutes before sunrise.

For the first time that feels like ages, I dare look back. Two Laelaps on rampage, both just tad smaller than Ms. O'Leary, and that is quite damn huge for a dog, are running towards me while driving all the bazaar before them. I do not know what the others are seeing as the Mist alters the Laelaps' appearance so that it is rendered into something that will allow their mortal minds to perceive, but the merchants seem to be leaving their counters and are scurrying away from the Laelaps, shouting. They're just as scared as I. It's complete chaos, and I thank all the graces that I can think of that it's this early and there aren't many people around.

I can hear awful sounds of the counters being smashed under the weights of the dogs, metal scraping the ground and people screaming, and I keep speeding my way down the street hoping that I could draw the Laelaps to somewhere else and away from the civilians. I then hear a metallic screech just at my back, and instinctively throw myself into the ground.

My chest crashes into the asphalt, and then I am smashed by the falling bits of wooden panels, glass and scraped hunks of asphalt. The debris on me is so heavy that I cannot breathe properly. I creep and try to hold on to something to drag myself away from the debris, but I can't find anything to grasp. Raising my head to understand what's going on, I disbelievingly watch a Laelaps take a taxi into its mouth and throw the car ten metres up into the air to crash into a building. The car catches fire a second later and a great explosion shakes the ground.

In complete horror, I sense souls departing to the underworld.

'Damn it!' I holler, shutting my eyes, not having the power to stop or witness the terror I caused. My throat aches in grief. I should have not put people in danger.

The sky bears the first signs of the morning by the clouds -that hue of blue that signifies the night has come to an end.

Things could not get any worse for me. I frantically try to shake the weight on me, hearing the Laelaps sniffing at the wreckage to catch my trail. More sunlight means less shadow, and I need all the shadow I could manage to get my powers on. But even if it was midnight, I doubt I could muster more of this chase. For a brief moment, I think of Percy; he can replenish himself to perfect health if he has a body of water by him. Sick with jealousy that I don't have such an ability, I close my eyes, breathe in, and decide to pray.

At first, I cannot choose whom to pray. As a child of Hades; I am not exactly the most popular demigod around. No one likes me very much, and even Father and I do not necessarily get along. I decide that he is, in any case, my best chance. Although I doubt that he hears me, I force myself to think of something to say, anything to say, and after terrible moments of blank ideas, the prayer itself slips away from my lips without me thinking. 'Father, I truly not know what you wish to have of me, but please put me where I'd best be in this moment.' I say.

I wait for a second, sensing the vibrations that each step of the Laelaps take in my very stomach, afraid of the worse possibility. I wonder if I would be treated like Hazel and spend the eternity on the Fields of Asphodel, or if I would be allowed into the Fields of Elysium as a hero, or if I would see Bianca when she ended her new cycle of life.

But then, shadows begin manifesting around me. Father has heard my prayer. I let out a mad, bone-chilling laugh of relief, just the laugh one would expect from a son of Hades to have. I open my eyes wide as I am pulled from the debris and elevated up in the air, feeling the shadows ready to take me away. Not knowing what to do, I stick my tongue out to two Laelaps eyeing me in horror, making pitiful noises and retreating with their tails between their legs. Feeling like a total badass, I open my eyes wide and seize the first rays of the sun rising over a blue sea.

The last thing my eyes draw into them are the images of few dozens of fishing boats moored comfortably over the flat surface of the sea, swaying lazily to the direction of the wind. I am gazing at a city, each corner shining with another hue of dazzling lights of the rising sun. Two bridges are laid out into the jagged strait that cuts through the land like a knife wound, like a mad god had tore it apart -and I could only assume that had just been the case.

_'Konstantinopoulis,'_ I manage to say, before the shadows take me away.


	2. Chapter 1

**I dream of him.**

He is running in an empty street, frantically looking around for something, a way to escape, I think. A pack of great canine beasts appear; snarling, sniffing, their great claws hitting the ground with loud thuds as they chase after him with devastating speed. The boy with dead-pale skin, dressed in all blacks, grips his sword tighter, and starts running again.

As he moves, my sight shifts so that my consciousness stays with him. This is a vision, and it is centred around him.

Brick walls of houses loom over his small figure, rising up to the sky intimidatingly as if they want to pierce it. The street must be quite lively during daytime, but it reminds me of a stone skeleton in the dim illumination of the streetlights. He seems unfazed by it. _'But it is only natural,'_ a voice assures me, giving me goosebumps. It is as if the voice comes from miles and times away, and is too weary to keep up the effort to talk, _'He is, after all, of the night; and has no reason to fear it.'_

Not taking heed to the alien voice at first, I study him. I've been seeing a lot of him in my dreams, or in my daytime visions, and this makes me feel oddly familiar of him. My Olympian parentage comes with a bonus pack containing a knack for divination. I know for certain that the Moirai; the _Sparing Ones, _or the _Three Fates_ as most are familiar with, entwined his string of life with that of mine, scheming with their wrinkly hands and minds as old as time itself -only that would explain the way visions of him haunt me.

'_You are a wise one,_' the voice praises my judgement, her voice echoing in my head and her power resonating through my bones, this time. I only feel threatened by her compliment. My vision then falls into darkness. I move through earthen tunnels with great speed, and am taken to the very depths of the Underworld. I can sense something very old, something arcane, up close. I find myself standing by a lump of earth, but the lump changes constantly, before I have enough time to study it. I realise that it grows more and more humanoid with each second. I can feel the lump trying to pull itself together; trying to be whole and sober again, but the process is so alien for me to understand. It has inconceivable, icy cold power that makes my blood freeze in my veins. _'What a pity that the gods have chosen to curse you,' _she continues.

It feel hope, mixed with the dread the voice gives me. _'Someone knows me,'_ I think,_ 'someone can see through the curse!'_

'_I am impervious to such shallow curses that the Gods might cast._' she tells me. _'And I want to tell that your journey is about to start now, in spite of what the Gods possibly could have in mind. They need you desperately, as do I.' _I have a gut feeling that I would wish not to be of service to her, for some reason. '_I will thin the mist around you as a gift of good will; I can only do a favour of this extent in this state I'm in_.' She pauses, and the lump of soil before me moulds itself into a face with no distinguishable features, into something more monster than human. '_I am a kind patron, __and I will treat you kinder than any Olympian already has._' the face concludes_,_ what must be her mouth contracting and relaxing after each letter. The features of the face shift every second. Unable to spot any good will in the voice or any compassion in its gaze, I look away from the visage, unable to bear its horrid, monstrous features._ '__Go away now, girl, and know that your time has arrived.'_

The dream dissolves. I open my eyes, drenched in cold sweat; breathing heavily as I regain my senses. 'King of the Ghosts,' I mutter to myself, 'King of the Ghosts'. I have goosebumps all over my body, and I just lay frozen, disbelievingly running through the details of my vision, thinking about the curse, about the boy.


	3. Chapter 2

My name is Julia Gosselin, and it is invisibility that I am cursed with, a spell laid on me because of the perversity my parents displayed against the Olympians.

I am cursed to not to be seen by any mortal or demigod. Thus, I live a life of complete isolation and solitude, parents torn from me, while the curse makes me and anything I accept to be mine invisible to the outside world, stranded just like Calypso.

I rise, throwing the sheets that are damp with sweat away from me. Looking out the window right next to my bed, I catch the glimpse of a lonely boat by the sea and the echoes of its motor humming tiredly. It sounds just as if it asks its owner to stop and sleep already. Cars occasionally whizz past on the street and tell that it's almost time the city rises.

I try to calm myself down, drinking in the crisp air of the night. I draw in the details and the marvels of a world I could never be a part of. Although I am separated forever from the life as people know it, I find comfort in its vivaciousness. This house is my sanctuary and is another thing that comforts me in my confinement.

But, I realise; after such a violent vision, even all these things that I love can't soothe the uneasiness I feel.

My home is an abandoned building that prevails over the Golden Horn of Bosphorus, and is familiar with every possible hue of blue. I've moved here and decided to make it my own two years ago, gradually improving the building with slight touches and transforming it from a rat trap to a full-fledged home. I've occasionally lived on the streets or in another cities, but have never belonged to anyone as much as I belonged here.

I call the house mine, and the mist does the rest for me. It keeps the mortals away, alters their perception of building to something dangerous, and is a protective cocoon for me. Nobody even knows that I reside here, maybe no one ever will and I will wilt away, slowly, without even having a friend, a family, or someone to love.

'_No,' _I correct myself, '_maybe _she_ does know that you live here_.'

I can almost feel her gaze on me, an I find the thought gravely disturbing. Shaking violently, I put my right hand on my chest and bend three fingers out like an eagle clawing an opponent. My mother has taught the gesture to me, and I find that it instantly appeases me, no matter the circumstance.

I listen intently as if to hear her icy voice again, but the room is silent. It always is, especially in the night. I realise that I long for the sunrise and its protectiveness, to wipe away the horrid memory of the vision. Sunshine is also good for the wide range of flowers scattered about the four stories my building. I spend my days taking care of them, and my nights pass as I gaze the dark waters of the strait from my wrought iron balcony, watching a city that has once witnessed the entire splendor of the legacy of my Olympian ancestry.

I make my way to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water, and I do so abruptly, trying to shake the sleep off of me. The ghastly voice haunts me. _'Your time has come.'_ I hear her whisper. I shut the tap in pure anger and everything turns silent again, and I close my eyes for a few second before I regard my face in the small mirror that's hung above the washstand.

My reflection in the mirror looks back at me, as if she hasn't risen from a bone-chilling vision. My eyes burn in heat and I myself felt terrible, but the girl looking back at me with furrowed brows and blue eyes had only a distrustful stare to mess up her picture-perfect appearance, her un-mess-able blonde hair spilling down from her heart-shaped face as straight as possible.

Beauty is supposed to be a blessing, as well. I often feel as if it is also a curse, as if my reflection is a false image put before me so that even I can't see my own self. Maybe the real me is invisible, even for me. Disturbed by such possibility, I curse the gods for their cruelty, and shut the lights off. My body automatically starts walking to the clay posts in which my exquisite flowers await to be tended. They'll help me feel better. The blossoms are shut tightly against the night and are dormant -they wait for the first rays of the sunlight to share their beauty with the world.

I grab the watering bucket and my toolbox, and approach the first flower. The soil hungrily draws in the water I give to it. A smile stretches across my lips, acknowledging its will to live. I caress a deep crimson flower of the flowering maple, its paper-thin petals folding elegantly against my touch. We get along great with this one, as I sing my best songs for her.

Father had taught a lot to me as a kid, and I remember the day he'd gave me an African Violet as a present on my fourth birthday. 'Sing to her,' he had said, pure joy radiating from his sky-blue eyes. 'I assure you she would love it and take delight in your friendship. Maybe it would even join you sing!' he adds, excited. I look at him unbelievingly and cock my eyebrow, so he smirks and takes me up into his arms and raises me up into the air, and I wrap my arms around his neck. 'I am telling you the truth, flowers may sing, Julia.' he reassures. 'One day, even Proserpina herself will envy your flowers.' Mother nudges him softly with her elbow and tells that it's '_Persephone_,' not '_Proserpina'_.

I shrug, trying to focus. I miss them dearly. If it wasn't memories tying me to them, I would be completely lost in this world.

A ray of light hits my eyes, as if to give me a sign. Sun has risen. 'Father,' I sigh, and watch the blazing tip of the golden sphere as it pokes its way through the horizon. I wait for the familiar feeling of its warmth to take me over and cure me out of troubles.

But I start to get colder, all of a sudden. Shocked, I begin to put my bucket away in order to go and grab something to keep me warm, but I am taken aback as I glimpse the circular shadow of the bucket on the ground thinning until it turns into a cord of darkness, and then dedicatedly starts moving away from me in liquid movements, just like drips of rain trailing down a window. My gaze locks on its moments in complete shock, and I follow it in its path.

The shadows in every corner of the room gather and stick together, avoiding the sunlight as if by instinct, and form an elliptical shape in the middle of the room. I note that the shape grows wider and wider with every shadow joining it, and looking at it feels like watching the bubbles surfacing from the pitch-black waters of a well.

I notice, however, that I fear not this darkness. It does not scare me like the ice-cold voice in my dream. I take another step towards it. I stare intently at its swarming depths, and wait, until he emerges from it. The portal of darkness then starts starts to shrink and disappears with a sound that reminds me of the wind. It is the boy from my visions.

He crashes unto the ground with a loud thud and stays there motionlessly, so I instinctively rush towards him and turn him so that his back is now against the floor. He looks older than I imagined, yet more frail than I remembered. He has a sternly-set jaw and jet-black hair framing is chalky face, purple-green marks encircling his sunken eyes. He tries to open his eyelids to get a hold of his surroundings, so I help him rise his back off the floor and keep him there. His face is full of scratches and dirt and his eyes are so dull I tell right away that he's been through a lot.

His eyes lock on me, and he says 'I made it', slowly. He relaxes his hand, letting go of the dark spatha that I'd seen him wield in my visions. 'It's here I'm supposed to be.'

I look at him, unbelievingly, realising that he could see me. The voice had said she'd make the mist around me thinner. She said she was kind. She said that she would treat me better than the Olympians. A laugh almost escapes my throat, and I feel reborn, purified of my lingering loneliness. I feel blessed. 'You made it,' I assure him. 'you made it.'


	4. Chapter 3

He tries to smile back to me, but then winces with pain and breaks into a cough. 'Tired,' he says, breathlessly. 'I...ran. A lot.'

'I know, ' I explain, as calmly as if it is something that everyone must know. Realising how awkward that must have sound, I begin to clarify. 'Visions. I've seen a vision of you escaping some dogs just before you got here.' I carefully leave the _earthen-lady-saying-very-scary-stuff_ part of my vision out of my speech.

'Visions.' he muses. 'And you're used to strangers just making raid into your house early in the morning. You are one of us, right?'

'Yes, I am. A demigod.' I reply. _'And I am not even used to strangers in the first place,'_ I think.

He takes in a breath of relief. 'Okay then, listen. Whoever you are, I've got to get out of here before things get heated.' he explains, trying to stand up. 'I was being followed by monsters, and believe me, they will find us. You'll be in danger as well.'

'I think it'll take a time for them to catch your trail again.' I object. It is in my blood to take care of the needy, and I not intend to let go of this boy before he's in perfect condition. I hold him from under his arms to yank him up, but my hands are shaking from panic in the same time, many questions thundering in my mind. _Why did he come here, out of all these places? __Did the Earthen Lady send him here? Why did I see visions of him? How are our fates connected?_

Whatever way he managed to find me or whomever helped him do it, I realize that the most important thing now is that he is healed. And healing is, to his luck, my strongest suit. 'Can you stand up? I will help you walk, and then we'll see to your wounds.' I ask.

'I'll try.' he affirms, and I raise him up, both of us spending tremendous effort to ensure he stands properly. He looks scrawny, but he is much heavier than I could have guessed. He rocks violently on his unsteady legs, but we manage to the nearest sofa together and I see him soundly laid upon it. He collapses like a boulder.

'Thanks.' he says, while I hastily make way towards the nearby kitchen, opening the fridge and dashing through its contents. I hear he manages a dry smile -civilised he is even in the brink of death.

I vaguely remember that demigods were seen as tasty snacks for many of the monsters, but they've never been of concern to me thanks my blessing. No matter what those monster were, I'm sure we had a considerable time before they caught his trail again, and I was slowly getting a rather fiendish idea to ensure our safety. I look at him over the kitchen counter and idly wonder who he really is -even in his dishevelled state, he radiates power -but to a much, much lesser descent then the Earthen Lady.

'Will you be my guest?' I ask him, after a moment's decision.

He looks at me blankly. 'I think,' he says, eyes drifting away, and for a second I think that he will faint before I get his response, '...we have worse problems than tea parties.'

I almost laugh, despite the uneasy circumstances. I try to summarise the situation as shortly as possible, but I'm sure it would sound ridiculous. 'I have a certain blessing that wards monsters off of me and of things I call mine.' I say, noting how bad the last week's _Spaghetti Bolognese_ started to smell in the fridge. 'That's how I manage to live all alone. I think it'll help you for a while, too, if you were to be _my_ guest.' The "_my"_ part here would hopefully do the trick. 'Now, do you accept?'

I think that he'll make fun of me for presenting such a weird proposal, but he just shrugs as if such things happen to him every day. 'Good thinking.' he manages to say. 'I accept.'

Immediately, I sense the Mist thickening around him. His eyes dart open and he studies the change around him, breathless, as if what I just did was cooler than emerging from a gateway of shadows. 'Wow,' he whispers.

'It is just one problem solved, I'd have to see you healed, too.' I add, finally finding the bronze jar that I have been looking for.

I grasp the jar in my arms, and hurriedly make my way back to the boy splayed on the sofa. He lets out a muffled moan and tries to rise. 'You should stay still,' I suggest him. 'You're too weak to rise. Trust me.'

He does not protest, and spreads out onto the sofa again. 'After we carry out with this, I'll fetch you something to eat. It seems as if you haven't had anything to eat in ages.'

'More or less,' he affirms.

I open the lid of the jar and collect a small amount of the liquid inside with a spoon. 'Nectar,' I clarify. 'It will heal you, to an extent.' I hover the spoon over him and encourage him to drink it, and dribble the nectar into his mouth. He smiles upon drinking it, and I wonder what taste the nectar carries, for him.

'Feeling better?' I ask. He nods.

'You should sleep.' I tell him, taking the blanket that's fold over the armrest, and tenderly laying it over this stranger. For a second, he closes his eyes in peace. But then, his face grows sour. 'I must...' he starts, opening his eyes, '...not sleep. Believe me, if I were to sleep now, I'd wake up the next aeon -I still have things to do.'

'You've overexerted yourself through your powers. It is your mind that is tired, not your body.' I object. 'You'll be much worse if you were to not take heed of your exhaustion. You need sleep.'

He looks at me, and I see the sheer willpower he displays while trying to keep himself up. 'I need...up.'

'Stop!' I dart, and out of panic, I put my hands on his chest and push him down. He resists for a split second, and then we stare at each other for a moment that seem like forever. _'Great, Julia.' _I think. _'Now that you have an organic life form to socialise with, why don't you just go ahead and redefine the word "awkward"?'_

'I'm sorry' I say, flushing red, drawing my hands away. His chest is freezing cold over his t-shirt that has three dancing skeletons on it. 'You could say I'm not good at handling social interactions.' He lays back down without saying anything, with a face as red as a tomato. I am almost thankful to him for staying silent.

'I _will_ see you healed, no matter what, I manage to say in my embarrassment, somehow. And I still have something up in my sleeve.'

He looks puzzled. '...What do you intend to do?' he manages to say.

'Sing.' I answer.

'Sing?' he inquires. 'To heal?'

'Exactly. Orpheus almost managed to return Eurydice from death, once. Want to test it for yourself?'

'I don't think I've got anything to lose.' he says.

I do a little ah-em. 'Hoson_ zēs phainou,' _I begin, unsure of myself at first. The world grows silent, as if the only sound in this word is this tune. '_Mēden holōs sy lypou,' _I continue, putting all my talent into the song.

For a second, he looks genuinely impressed. 'Gods,' he said. 'You are working pure magic. You're not one of those evil enchantresses, right?'

My mouth stretches in a smile, and I close my eyes, trying not to laugh.

The Ancient Greek lyrics emanate through the house, and I feel great power unleashing itself from each letter that comes out my mouth. The magic takes place. I imagine the notes taking his pain away, sinking into his skin, healing and repairing him.

The song, despite the fact that I channel my healing through it, is a sad one, one about death. I can't help wondering why I've chosen it among all the songs I could possibly have sung. It is the oldest song known to man, written by a man who's lost her wife. Dad liked to sing this song, and he had a great voice, too; I'd love it when he'd sing to me.

Although I'd despised this song even if it was him that sang it. It was grim and dark, and composed to be more of a reminder than a celebration of life, or a goodbye. '_When you live, shine,'_ it commanded,_ 'have no grief at all. Life exists for a short while...'_

'_To telos ho chronos apaitei.' _I manage to end the quadrant, roughly translating to '_and time demands its toll._'

'U-unbelievable.' he manages to say, and I open my eyes. He pulls at his aviator jacket and takes it off. 'I feel...fine.' He looks incredulously at the cuts on his forearms, now reduced to light pink scars. He opens and closes his hands, and rises his back from the couch, sitting.

'T-thank you, I don't know what to say.' he stutters. 'I'm in your debt.'

'No problem. Stay for breakfast, and we're even.' I jokingly reply, making my way to the fridge to put the nectar back. Although I try to make it seem like a joke, Gods know that I would even cherish the company of Cerberus himself. 'I was just about to settle to eat something, and seeing how skins and bones you are, you could use something to eat as well.'

'I could.' he mutters, dropping his gaze on his stomach as if he could see just how empty it was.

'Uh, hey. Just a second.' he says, and I turn back to him. 'What was the name of the song?'

'It's known as the Song of Seikilos,' I say, 'but really, the composer gave it no name. It's a carving on a marble -the song itself is an ode to death.'

For some reason, this makes him smile bitterly. 'Quite befitting that you've sang it to me.'


	5. Chapter 4

I hoped that we would actually talk while eating. I mean, that is why dining table exist for. To make people talk.

He proved me otherwise while he ate the sandwich in complete silence in the opposite side of the table.

I tried not to stare at him, because whenever I looked his way, his small gestures denounced his discomfort. His eyes that rapidly trailed around the room or examined the vista stopped and he turned his head away, fixed his gaze on his hands, or blushed. He was quite silent, and I get the impression that he felt just as awkward about talking to me as I did felt for him. It was probably my fault since I almost made him faint while trying to keep him still, earlier this morning.

Or maybe, he was a loner, as well.

I'd never thought speaking to people would be this hard. In endless days of my confinement, I had dreamed of being someone easy and casual to get along with, and thought I'd excel in it.

_'But,'_ I think, with a heavy heart, _'Things prove otherwise.'_

I am very interested in talking to him, asking something to him, getting to know him, but I remain silent, fearing that I might disturb him with whatever I could say. I still pinch myself over and over again to prove myself that I am not dreaming, to prove that the curse might be lifted, so that people could finally see me, talk to me. Maybe I would stop being invisible.

I feel the need of doing something so that he does not feel like a stranger anymore. But he is after all, a stranger. I don't even know his name._  
_

'You,' I say, avoiding looking at his side as I pretend to watch the sea from the window, 'were pretty beat-off when you came here.' My mind races for some sort of follow up, to break the ice. 'And you were running away from something?'

'I was.' he gingerly admits, and I take this chance to turn back to him and force him into a dialogue. He then fixes his gaze upon his orange juice and combs out his messy hair with the other one before continuing.

'I was running away from monsters known as Laelaps. They're rumored to always catch a prey they are hunting, without exception. I truly had no idea how to get myself out of that mess.' he looks at me in a shy way, unsure of what to say next. 'You know, I prayed to my father so that he shoots me of to the place I ought best to be, before I ended up here.' he pauses. 'So I think I can trust you. Those monsters need a master in order to hunt, which makes me think I've been a real nuisance to that certain someone.'

Taken aback because of his sudden openness, I dash to my orange juice, as well, trying to find something to say while taking a gulp. He studies my every gesture until I sit down and start speaking. 'I'm glad you think that way of me.' I begin. 'But what could you have possibly done to threaten a person who has the control over such monsters?' I then realize that it sounds as if I've taken him too lightly. 'No offence.'

'None taken.' he shrugs off, with a bitter smile. 'I was leading a small investigation by myself in father's realm when the Laelaps decided to string along with me. Things were pretty hectic back there, and I can't get back there to check things out. I fear he might need my help,' he ends off, looking solemnly at me as if he thinks that I understood that perfectly and wanted to know my interpretation.

'I do not know your name, much less that of your father's.' I remind him.

'My bad.' he apologizes, combing his hair back again. 'Uh, my name is Niccolò di Angelo, or Nico, for short. Son of...' he pauses. 'Well, I'd say you could tell of whose descent I am from just by looking at me,' he says, grimly, and raises his eyes up to me. 'And I don't know your name, either.'

'Nice to meet you, Nico.' I stutter. 'It's Julia, Julia Gosselin.' I reach my hand out for a handshake, but to my confusion, he reaches out and grabs my forearm instead of my hand, just like ancient Greeks did -apparently he does it out of habit. My eyes lock on him, partly because of shock and partly as a sign of kindness I had to carry out while shaking hands, but totally involuntarily. Arms still clasped, my eyes focus on his face and I begin to study him. His eyebrows knit together, but he lets me look at him.

The first thing that hits me is his stare.

His brown eyes were despondent and weary, but they shone with a glint of madness; as if he were just about to do something reckless or was just about to challenge an enemy into into a battle for death. It scares me, because it looks incredibly out of place on his face. It is a look that gives you the chills.

His glance was rendered even more direful with the green and purple circles around his eyes, and I realize that his sunken eyes makes him look strikingly like skull. He appears to be very tired, in spite of my healing. I took in his dark clothing, jet black hair, his deficient posture and grim smile. I remembered how he came from the portal of shadows, and for the first time, just for a brief moment, I take the smell of death surrounding him. And I knew.

'Pluto,' I say, 'Hades. You have to be of his line.'

He smiles, encouragingly. 'Nice one, daughter of Apollo.' I knit my eyebrows and look at him with a how-did-you-know-that look, and his smile vanishes. 'No one but the most talented descendants of Apollo could ever heal someone in such a grave shape, and just by singing, no less.' he explains.

Thanking the graces that I managed to break the ices enough to get a compliment from him, and trying not to blush as red as a beet, I focus back on work. 'Now that we know each other, what could be the problem about the Underworld?'

He thinks for a second. 'Hades' realm, the Underworld, is separated from Tartarus, which serves as a dungeon of torment for the wicked.' he pauses and looks at me, and I nod for him to continue.

'For short, I began coming across a lot of creatures that must have been locked away in Tartarus roaming very close to the heart of Underworld. It is a sign of chaos and disorderliness, and those two things could be very dangerous in the Underworld, both for the living, and for the dead.' he states.

'And this was what you were investigating before you came face to face with Laelaps.'

'Exactly.' he validates. 'I tried to return back to the Underworld numerous times as the Laelaps chased me, but father must have locked the doors, and that kept me from getting inside. I've come to think he did this to avert someone in from getting outside.'

'What will you do next?' I ask breathlessly, remembering of the Earthen Woman in my vision, locked away in the forgotten parts of the Underworld. Could she be the threat Nico mentioned? From what she'd told me when she'd lift my curse, it was apparent that she'd harbored a great hatred for Olympians, and naturally, to Hades and possibly against Nico. She was most definitely strong enough to be a threat to Hades.

She told me that she desperately needed me, as did the Olympians. I decided not to share this with Nico, not until I managed to understand what happened. It seemed like a villainous thing to do to keep information away from someone who'd admit that they trusted you, but I wasn't entirely sure that I would wanted to avoid the Earthen Lady if she wanted to defy the Gods. Graces, I didn't even know what to do. I fist my hands and put them on my lap, and turn my gaze to them. My heart sinks. I just want a normal life. Friends. Happiness. I don't want to suffer because of the Olympians anymore.

When I feel okay enough to do so, I raise my face. He looks at me with an expression of pure understanding, and for a second I almost feel as if he can see into my pain. 'Fear not,' he says. 'I'm sure everything will be okay.'

He then rises from his seat and looks out the window. I watch him, his black t-shirt that is a size larger to him, his black skinny jeans tucked into his black soldier boots. The belt made of chains that's hung around his waist rattles with his each step. I almost wonder if the sunshine drifting in from the windows would burn him.

'Beautiful view. This is Istanbul, right?' he inquires.

'Yes,' I nod, unable to understand the sudden topic change. I also stand up from my chair and walk towards him. He starts to draw shapes on the window with his index finger, and for a mere second I fear that he also had a short attention span, just like I do. But he proves me otherwise.

'Out of pure luck, I had already managed to here, on my own, before father interfered.' he starts, keeping making lines on the morning mist that's adhered on the window. 'It is just as if the fates wanted to have it so. It had maybe been so that I meet you, or I had something to do in this city, or maybe even both. Truth be told, I have no idea. You never know what the gods have in mind.'

'Istanbul is where Byzantium was founded. It served as a capital to the Roman Empire. It had been of utmost importance for the Greek colonies, for centuries. It is a city the Gods still favor.' he draws his gaze from the vista and looks at me, as if he's reached a conclusion.

I stare blankly at him.

'Something is up,' he concludes, 'I am sure of it. Whatever it is, it is essential that we find it out.'

'We?' I say. '_Your time has come,_' she had told to me. My stomach convulses in fear. _'The gods need you desperately, as do I.'_

'Yes.' he nods. 'I think there is a reason why my father sent me to you, through the portal. He could have most easily have me freed of the Laelaps, or have me cured out of my scars and fatigue, upon my prayer. But he did not. He wants me to find something out. I think this is a quest, and we are supposed to work on it, together.'


End file.
